Last Ring Bearer
by shrinni
Summary: [COMPLETE] Frodo lies dead in the tunnels of Shelob, killed by too much of Her paralyzing poison, and Sam must find the strength to carry on alone.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: LoTR and all the characters therein belong to the Tolkien estate, I'm just writing for fun and not profit. Some parts of the first chapter have been quoted and paraphrased from the end of the Two Towers.

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**Last Ring-Bearer by shrinni**

**Chapter 1**

Sam stood, white faced, staring down on the broken and jagged plains that he must cross alone, and his heart quailed. He took a few steps, and they seemed the heaviest and most reluctant of his life.

_I don't want this quest, _Sam thought despondently, _if I could have one wish it would be to go back to Mister Frodo._

But while Sam took his slow and heavy steps, the defenders of the pass of Cirith Ungol had not been idle, the red eye of the tower had betrayed Frodo and Sam's presence, and Sam could hear orc scouting parties approaching him from both sides.

His eyes darted around, searching for a place to hide him, a way to escape. But there was no escape for even a small and clever Hobbit.

_Is my time as a Ring-bearer over before it even begins?_

But even as Sam had these thoughts, his way of escape became clear. Without conscious decision, he reached pulled the chain from beneath his shirt and over his head, and put the Ring on his finger without bothering to draw it from the chain.

As well he did, for immediately after he placed the Ring on his finger, the orcs appeared.

He stepped back out of their way, amazed that the orcs couldn't see him. They passed before him, grey shadows and torches paler than the harvest moon. Sam marveled that even as his sight seemed dim, his hearing had been magnified so that even as he listened to the hoarse speech of the orcs, he could also hear the bitter sounds of the wounded Shelob deep in her lair, nursing her wounds and her hate.

Sam felt horribly visible with the Ring burning like fire upon his finger, and knew that somewhere a red eye searched for him, but he couldn't take off the Ring now. So instead he hid himself among the rocks as the last of the grey company passed, hoping that that would be enough.

He listened as the orcs met where Frodo had fallen, and listened in fear as they spoke. The Ring must be able to translate tongues, for he understood every word they said. They muttered to each other, curses mostly, and wondered what there was to be found on the Stairs.

When Sam heard the group behind and out of sight shout, he knew they had found Frodo's body. The terrible stories he head heard of the orcs brutality came rushing to him, and the Quest was forgotten in an instant as he dashed back down the steps, thinking only to say Mister Frodo's body from being defiled.

The run through the grey mist seemed to take forever. Same feared he would be too late to save Mister Frodo once again, and that fear sent him sprinting though unnatural tiredness pulled at his limbs and the Ring dragged him down by his finger.

As he was about to round the final corner however, a clear light seemed to shine through the shadow world, and Sam heard a faint voice in his ears: _'Wait, my dear Sam.'_

Sam stopped dead in his tracks. "Mister Frodo?" He whispered, disbelieving. But the voice said nothing more.

Sam could not disobey his master ever in life, and no less service could he do in death. He crouched behind a boulder, and listened to the rough-voiced orcs as they talked.

"...This spy was not alone Shagrat, you blind scum. Who cut the cords? Who stuck a pin in Her Ladyship? Where is the other one Shagrat?"

There was a short silence, then a different voice growled, "We came upon no one behind, and our path doesn't have the twisty tunnels that your did. Look for your spy there."

There was shouting then, the first two voices yelling at each other and their voices echoing off the rocks so that even Sam's heightened hearing could not make out what was being said. He could tell that underneath the insults that a party had gone back to the tunnels, to look for him, though they thought him some elvish warrior.

_If they think me behind, my way in front will be clear._ Thought Sam, his mind turning again to the Quest. But he could not leave Mister Frodo.

When the shouting died down, Sam heard them discussing Mister Frodo.

"Dead as a stone he is."

"Can we eat him?"

"I wouldn't if I were you." A harsh cackle. "Her Ladyship has poisoned him well. She likes her tasty morsels alive, but he's so small, her normal poisons must have killed him." A nasty laugh. "You want to eat poison, Gorbag?"

"I guess not then, but I want his pretty dagger."

"No. I have my orders, we take him and all his things to the tower, and send a description of all his trinkets to Lugbúrz, and Lugbúrz _only_."

A snarl. "Fine."

Sam heard them lift his master's body from the ground and carry him through the tunnels. He made to follow, but once again he heard Mister Frodo's voice, feather light. '_No Sam, there are more important than protecting the dead.'_

"But I can't leave you Mister Frodo, not ever." Sam whispered in anguish, tears streaming down his face.

'_You must Sam.' _Frodo's voice was stern and sad, but there was an undercurrent of joy that Sam had not heard from Frodo since they left the Shire. _'A last service, gentle Sam, for me. Take up my burden. Finish the Quest.'_

Sam sobbed, but knew in his heart that he could never deny Frodo anythinig he asked, and especially not this. "I'll do it Mister Frodo, but my heart breaks to leave you."

Frodo's voice grew fainter. _'If you fail Sam, it will not matter. You are the last hope of Hobbits and Men and Elves.'_

"It's all wrong Mister Frodo, all wrong. But I'll do it." Sam stood, and turned once again to the path he knew he must follow.

Frodo's voice was now more faint then the sighing of a breeze. _'Goodbye Sam.'_

"Goodbye Mister Frodo." Sam whispered.

Sam took off the Ring, knowing that if he wore it in Mordor he would me found in a moment. He walked until he could once again look on the shattered plains of Mordor, looked upon the great host camped in the valley, and was too weighed down by grief to be afraid.

"The last hope of Hobbits and Men and Elves." Sam said to himself, and gave a mournful laugh. "I'm not going to throw it in the fire for anything so great and noble as that, Mister Frodo. I'm just a gardener, just _your _gardener."

Sam stared at Mt. Doom, which smoked and glowed orange in the night. "No noble soul drives me, Mister Frodo." Sam whispered as he began walking down the path once more. "I'm doing this for you."

There was no reply but the whistling of the wind.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own only my laptop and a battered and much read copy of Lord of the Rings. I write for fun and creativity and the meager acclaim of fellow writers on ffn.

AN: Think what you will of this chapter and all future chapters in this story, I am not attempting to imply a former romance between Sam and Frodo. I suppose if you really like them being in love, you can read it that was, but that is not that thrust of this story. Just thought I'd make that clear.

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**Last Ring-Bearer**

**Chapter 2**

Sam traveled, alone and weary in heart, for nearly a day. The plain of Gorgoroth spread before him as he picked his careful way down the cliff face. It was still filled with the dreadful host of orcs, and he could not see a way to cross without being taken.

At least he did not hunger or thirst. When he had taken Sting, the Ring, and the Lady's phial from Frodo, he had just enough sense beyond the consuming grief to know that he would need Frodo's provisions and water bottle.

With both the provisions given to them by Faramir, the lembas bread, and Sam's cookware, his pack was filled near to bursting, so much that he had to tie the water bottles next to Sting on his belt. He had lost his iron-shod staff in Shelob's tunnels, but he supposed that that it was just as well, for without it his load was lighter.

Even so, when Sam had been walked for some time he realized that his beloved pots and pans would have to be left behind. He didn't want to leave them lying somewhere where orcs, or worse, Gollum might come upon them, so he vowed to drop them down the first crevasse he came to.

Sam walked until he felt his feet could carry him no further, nearly a day and half a night by his reckoning. He sat down in a cave set the cliff face so shallow that it was more of a depression, but it was the best he could find.

His grief for Frodo threatened to overwhelm him then, but he fought it back as best he could. To distract himself, he took stock of his food and water.

_The wind parches my throat; I'm going through the water faster than I ought. I need to find a stream of some sort soon._

_Save the lembas for last, _he thought, _It will last longer._

Sam chewed on some dried meat and fruit, not really hungry but knowing that he needed it.

Having taken stock and eaten, and knowing he could walk no farther for awhile, Sam could no longer ignore his grief. Tears began sliding slowly down his face and he didn't bother brushing them away.

"Oh Mister Frodo," Sam whispered, "This Quest was never meant for me." Then he cast himself on the ground and slept, uncaring of who might find him.

* * *

He dreamt of a wheel of fire that hung from his neck, growing heavier with every second. It dragged his head to the ground, until he was kneeling in dust and ash. 

If he put it on it would become feather-light, he knew. But if he put it on then he would be visible for all to see.

The flamed from the Ring ignited the ash around him, until he was bound and immobile in a sea of fire.

If he put the Ring on, he could make the fire go out.

As he reached out to where the Ring burned in the dust, he saw hairy feet in the dust, miraculously unsigned by the raging inferno. Someone took him by the shoulders, and lifted him effortlessly to his feet.

Frodo stood there, holding Sam by the shoulders and looking the same happy Hobbit he had been at Bilbo's birthday party. Only instead of being rosy and peach, a clear white light shone from underneath his skin.

"If you put it on, even for a moment, all fires will go out." Frodo said gently.

Sam didn't know why Frodo didn't feel the fire, but Sam's clothing was beginning to smolder. "It burns Mister Frodo."

Frodo gave him an understanding smile. "Our life always burns us away in the end, because we are mortal. You must let it burn."

"I'll try Mister Frodo, but I fear it is already eating me."

Frodo kissed Sam gently on the forehead, and the fire shrank away from them both. The Ring stopped dragging down on Sam's neck, and it seemed as if cold water was flowing from where Frodo had kissed him. And light was shining down from a star-strewn sky.

* * *

Sam awoke, feeling refreshed. His grief was still there, but it no longer felt as if his heart would shatter from it. The Ring still seemed unnaturally heavy, but it wasn't burning like it had in the dream. 

Sam drank a little water, then emerged from his small hole in the cliff. The first thing he noticed that there seemed to be a little lighter than when he had gone to sleep.

He looked out once more on the plain of Gorgoroth, determined to find a path among the orc-camps.

What he saw made him despair anew. By his reckoning he was at least forty miles from the scarred bulk of Orodruin, and the strait path was packed with Sauron's army.

He tried to remember back to Rivendell, to the few times he'd looked at a map. He thought of trying to sneak by to the north, but dismissed it.

_They'll be packed in tighter there; the pass is much narrower._ That left attempting to circle to the south, which if he remembered correctly was much more open, with fewer places to hide even a small Hobbit.

_Can't go back, can't go forward... what am I to do? _He looked back the way he came, and on the edge of the cliff above him there was a line of blue sky.

_Something good must have happened, if the darkness could not hold sway in the West._ Sam thought, and that gave him new hope that he could indeed make the journey and finish his part.

Deciding that he didn't have enough food, even with his extended provisions, to circle to the south and that attempting a straight dash was folly, he chose to turn north once he made it to the foot of the cliff, and trust to the rocky landscape to keep him hidden from unfriendly eyes.

Sam set out once more. He was still alone, still afraid, but a new hope had grown in his heart that could not be quenched even by the dark skies above him and the smoky ruins of Gorogoroth.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, just borrowing.

AN: I just read over the last chapter again, and there are so many typos that I'm ashamed of myself. I'm going to blame it on too much caffeine, and at some point I'll fix as many as I can find, I promise.

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**Last Ring-Bearer by shrinni**

**Chapter 3**

Sam thought that it took another day for him to get to the foot of the Morgai. It was nearly impossible to tell however, the sun may be shining down on the west, but Mordor existed in perpetual smoky grey from the ash spewed into the sky by Orodruin.

As soon as he reached the valley floor, Sam turned northwards and began his attempt to get past the great host of orcs camped on the plains of Gorgoroth.

It was slow going, though faster than his climb down the cliff from the pass of Cirith Ungol. The foot of the Morgai was rocky and strewn with boulders and ditches. And while this was idea terrain for Sam to make his way without being seen, the footing was treacherous and he had to watch carefully where he was going to put each foot.

Occasionally, Sam came across crevasses that made his journey all the more perilous. Most were too deep to climb down and then out, so he had to make his careful way around, either climbing back up to cross or creeping out into more open terrain and around it.

The first few crevasses Sam came across, he would throw pebbles down to see how deep they were. The third one he found seemed to have no bottom, at least no matter how he strained his eyes he saw nothing, and he never heard the pebble he threw hit the bottom.

It was long, extending into the open plains of Gorgoroth, but narrow enough for Sam to leap over once he found the courage. Before he leapt, he finally parted with his cherished pots and pans.

"I don't suppose I need them anymore anyway." Sam muttered as he watched them tumble from his sight. _I don't think I'll live long enough to ever need to cook again._ He thought sadly.

Sam was convinced he would never make it out of Mordor alive, even if he could get to Mt. Doom and destroy the Ring. Even so, he kept his gift from Lady Galadriel safe in his beast pocket, as a reminder of the beauty and good in the world that he was trying to save.

When he felt that the weight of the Ring was too heavy for him to bear any longer, he would take out the box and run his hand over it, imagining the Lady's face, the _mallorn_ trees with their golden leaves, and his colorful gardens at home, which would be blooming soon without him.

He would also take out the Lady's phial, her gift to Frodo, and cup it in his hands so that the light shining from within would not be seen by any eyes but his own. And with the memory of good soil on his hands and starlight shining in his eyes he could get up once more and carry on the journey.

And so Sam traveled, sleeping when he could walk no further, eating sparingly when he felt faint from hunger, and drinking even more sparingly.

As chance would have it, he came upon streams running into the Gorgoroth, and though they tasted bitter and warm, he was thankful that there was enough to keep his water bottles full.

The Ring weighed heavily on his mind, as he knew it would. But, either because he had not carried it for long or perhaps because in his heart of hearts he knew he was not destined for greatness, it was slow to work upon his waking mind.

His sleep, though, was haunted by a wheel of fire that burned him alive. Sometimes Frodo would appear and make the fire recede, but often he didn't and Sam would wake shaking and beating out imaginary flames on his clothes.

He was suspicious of the lack of pursuit. He knew that the orcs suspected him alive, though they thought him an elvish warrior. He finally decided that they must have assumed he had fled back to Ithilien when his companion was killed, but he didn't lose his caution.

After an uncertain amount of days, Sam had gone as far north as he could manage without coming in sight of an old tower that sat squarely in his way, and still he could not see a way to sneak past the camped army of orcs. He was still no closer the rising bulk of Mt. Doom, either.

_Trying to circle around behind was probably folly, anyway. _Thought the depressed Sam.

As he sat, trying to think of a way to Mt. Doom, he noticed something that at first he dismissed as a sleep-deprived vision. But as he continued to watch, he realized that it was no vision; _the army was moving_.

And indeed, the entire orc-host seemed to be moving south, towards the Black Gates (as indeed they were, to destroy once and for all the last king of the West).

Sam filled his water bottles from the trickling water-course that he had been following, and then waited for hours until the last orc had gone from his sight.

While he waited, he thought he heard a noise, like the creeping footsteps of bare feet, but when he strained to listen he heard no sound. Sam was not reassured. He had wondered when he would catch sight of Gollum, and now he wondered why Gollum hesitated to attack him. He was alone, and weakened by the burden of carrying the Ring.

_He must be starving_. Sam realized. He doubted there were any bugs here that Gollum could survive on, and there was certainly no fish. He didn't have any way to carry water either.

_Stinker's starving to death and dying of thirst, most likely. But still he follows me, he can't help it._ Sam thought, for the first time truly pitying him. _He'll die if he follows me forever, and I don't think he can survive if the Ring is destroyed. So why does he hesitate to kill me and take it for himself?_

Resolving to sleep with one eye open when he could no longer stay awake he crept out, his wary eye on the ruined tower that he was still in sight of. He drew back hurriedly when he saw a lagging troop of orcs go running down the road that curved towards the Isenmouthe, covering himself in his Lorien cloak.

Hidden in the shadows, cloaked in a grey against grey rock, the marching orcs went past without noticing him. When they had passed out of sight, and Sam heard more no iron-shod feet on the road, he set out. He jogged as long as he could on the road, trusting to luck.

His luck held, and when he had run for as long as he could manage he turned off the road and slowed to a careful walk, making a direct line for Orodruin thought the broken landscape of Gorgoroth. When could walk no more he sat, ate the last bite of Faramir's provisions, and drank sparingly from his water bottle.

Unable yet to sleep, but too weary to go on, Sam surveyed the land he must still cross to get to the rising bulk of Mt. Doom. _It looks every step of fifty miles. _The thought made his feet ache. _If I get no weaker, _which Sam doubted, _I might make it in five days, but who knows how long it will take to get to the top?_

Sam once again went through his dwindling supply of food. What he found made him smile. _More than enough lembas to get there... and maybe even enough to get back to the Gate, if I'm not slain on the way._

For the first time since Frodo's death, Sam realized that he might actually see the Shire again. If he wasn't killed or captured by orcs, if he managed to escape after he destroyed the Ring, if he had enough food just to make it to Itilien...

_I can go home, after this is all done. I can see the Shire again... If I can just destroy the Ring and get out of this broken land alive._


	4. Chapter 4 rating uped for some violence

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to the Tolkien estate, or maybe to Peter Jackson, but certainly not to me.

AN: I forgot to mention, in the last chapter, Sam's line "It looks every step of fifty miles," was quoted from Return of the King.

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**Last Ring-Bearer**

**Chapter 4**

By Sam's imprecise reckoning, he thought that it had taken him around six days to get to the craggy foot of Mt. Doom. The ever-present gloom made it hard to keep track, but other things had distracted Sam on his journey, and made him lose track of time.

As he had suspected, the Ring seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour, dragging at his neck until he spent most of his long and weary treks staring at his feet.

He did not want for food, he had more than enough lembas, and with two water bottles he managed to be no more than achingly thirsty. There were scattered wells, no doubt for orc use, so that he managed to have just enough water and he was grateful for every lukewarm and bitter drop.

His nightmares continued, but Frodo's appearances in them grew less frequent. His waking was no longer completely safe from the terrifying vision of a wheel of fire. Sometimes it seemed to float in front of him as he walked, just out of reach, taunting and burning and enticing him.

_I will destroy the Ring for Frodo_. Became Sam's mantra, one that he had to repeat to himself constantly just to remember why he was in this forsaken land to begin with.

With his mantra and his memories of the Shire, Sam managed to hold on to his purpose and sanity and push onward, until finally he had finished crossing the Gorgoroth, and began to climb the rocky foot of Orodruin.

His progress up the mountain was slowed to a crawl by boulders and loose scree that blocked his path. He went gamely on, wondering if he would have to climb all the way to the top to find the Cracks of Doom and the Chamber of Fire.

At some point his feet had acquired small cuts from the sharp rocks that even hobbit feet could not withstand, giving him a slight limp but not seriously hindering him. Worse than that was when the scree slid down the slope in protest of his weight, carrying him backwards until he managed to grab hold of something more stable and begin his ascent anew.

After an indeterminate length of time, Sam came upon a road that wound its way up the mountain. He stared at it uneasily, wondering why it was so free of debris when the rest of the rocky slope was nearly impassable.

_Why does it matter? _Sam thought ruefully. _It's got to lead to the Chamber of Fire, why else would there be a road? And if that's the case I have to take it no matter the danger, _he smiled grimly _and at least my aching feet will have some relief._ He stepped out on the road and walked as quickly as his bleeding feet could manage.

It wasn't long until Sam saw the road lead into the mountain some way ahead. _It's almost done!_ He exulted, and walked faster. _I'll be free again... and I can go home._ Almost without conscious thought, his hand rose and clutched, not the Ring that haunted his thoughts, but the small wooden box that still sat in his breast pocket.

Never taking his eyes off the entrance ahead of him, Sam drew out his box and held it tight in his hand. _To see the Shire again..._

Suddenly Gollum leapt into the path and blocked Sam's way. Shouting, Sam drew Sting and brandished it. "Get back! Or I swear I'll run you through!"

Gollum hissed, a nasty smile exposing his cracked and broken teeth. He was much thinner than the last time Sam had seen him, so thin that every bone was outlined in sharp relief. Eyes eyes were wilder than Sam had ever seen them; clearly he had lost what little sanity he had left.

He stood squarely in Sam's way, swaying slightly. "Where's the other one, precious?" He asked slyly. "Meat in Her belly we thinks, oh yes. We lead the hobbitses on a pretty dance and one danced right into Her claws, precious!" he crowed, clearly pleased by his own cleverness.

Gollum's taunting enraged Sam. "You killed Mister Frodo you stinking beast!" He shouted, brandishing Sting again and advanced. To his shame he was more worried about his way being blocked than by avenging his fallen friend. _I will destrp the Ring for Frodo!_

Gollum skipped back a step, eyeing Sting warily but never losing his manic grin. "We never breaks our swears, precious!"

"LIAR!"

"Never breaks our swears!" Gollum insisted, then laughed. "We found the pass for you, precious, the only way into Mordor! Not our fault if She was there watching." Gollum giggled to himself, then gave Sam a sly look. "But where's the precious now? Did the fat hobbit take it, or the nasty orcses?"

Sam was horribly aware of the Ring that pulled down his neck, but he said nothing.

"We thinks the hobbit has it, precious. And we never swears to him!" Without warning Gollum leapt at Sam, bony fingers poised to throttle the life from him.

Sam dove out of the way, landing hard on his shoulder and losing his grip on Lady Galadriel's box, which bounced off the road and landed unscathed on a rock lower down on the slope.

He didn't pause to try and get his box, instead rolled as quickly to his feet as he could manage and held Sting in front of him at the ready.

Gollum stood where Sam had just been, panting. He seemed too weak for the manic attack that head nearly killed Sam once in Emyn Muil. He gathered himself and leapt as Sam again, desperation etched in every line of his body.

Instead of dodging, this time Sam just stepped out of the way and stabbed as Gollum landed next to him. He caught Gollum in the side, slicing neatly but shallowly through the flesh just under his rib. Gollum fell to the ground, his hands clutching his side to staunch the bleeding.

Gollum began to wail, a high keening that Sam was sure would bring whatever remained of Mordor down upon them both. Still clutching Sting, Sam turned and bolted for the entrance to the Chamber of Fire, putting all his energy into this last dash. He didn't even look behind to see if Gollum could still follow him.

_I'll get the box after._ Sam thought desperately as he reached the entrance, Gollum's keening still loud in his ears. Taking a deep breath, he ran inside, ran along the path until it ended in a cliff and lava flowed far below his feet.

He reached up and snapped the chain that held the Ring, clutching the Ring and letting the chain slide between his fingers and fall into the fires far below. He stared at the Ring, sitting innocently and golden between his fingers. He could hear dark words echoing in his mind, enticing him to put it on, to become a lord, to save the whole West.

_Now it comes to the end._ Sam thought, and extended his hand, ready to throw the ring away. Letting it drop seemed both the easiest and hardest thing to do.

_Even now, I don't want to be rid of it. It's caused so much death, so much sorrow. And I don't want to destroy it. But I must. I must, for Frodo._

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine!

AN: There is some quoting from Return of the King in this chapter.

* * *

**Last Ring-Bearer**

**Chapter 5**

"...I have tokens that I was bidden to show to thee – to thee in especial, if thou shouldst dare to come." The nameless creature known as the Mouth of Sauron turned to his guards and signaled, and one of the orcs came forward with a bundle covered in black cloths, giving them to the Mouth.

When the black cloths were tossed aside, the Captains of Gondor, along with the last remnants of the Fellowship (all but Merry, who was in the Houses of Healing) stared in dismay at what they saw. They were shown Sam's short sword, a grey cloak with a brooch of elven-make, and finally Frodo's mithril coat and tattered garments.

Pippen leapt forward with a cry but was silenced by Gandalf, and the Mouth of Sauron laughed to see their grief.

"So you have yet another of these imps with you!" he cried. "No doubt you thought their size would serve to shield them from the Eyes of the Dark Lord, but he sees all! What use you thought one rat is beyond me, and what worthless spy he was!"

The Messenger laughed again. "I can see he was dear to you. And now his fate shall rest in your hands. Accepts my Lord's terms, or we shall break him and change him and send him back to you so you see what you have done."

"Name the terms." said Gandalf, staring steadily into the eyes of the Messenger.

The Mouth of Sauron named the terms, predictable and cruel. They could not accept the terms and give up all pretense of freedom, but what was the point now that the Ring-bearer had been taken?

Gandalf, surprising many, flatly refused the terms and snatched the tokens from the Messenger's hands. "We did not come here to waste words in treating with Sauron, faithless and accursed; still less with one of his slaves. Begone!"

The Messenger gave a cry and galloped back to the Gate, which swung open wide to reveal a great host which streamed forth. The Men of the West were outnumbered ten to one at least.

The Captains rode back to their army quickly, chased by the jeering yells of the marching host. There was little time for Aragorn to order his men, but Gandalf took a moment to pull him and the other survivors of the Fellowship away.

"Frodo is dead," Gandalf said flatly, as if refusing to believe his own words, "I saw it in the foul Messenger's eyes."

Pippin began to weep for his lost cousin. "We should never have left the Shire." He whispered.

"Look at me, Pippin." Said Gandalf, not unkindly. "Frodo may have fallen, but the Enemy knows not of the Ring, nor of Sam. There is hope left. This battle is not in vain."

Pippin wept still, but he took some heart from Gandalf's words.

Aragorn mounted his horse, eyes bright with unshed tears, and rode off to prepare his Army for this last hopeless battle. The other Companions of the Ring bowed their heads in a moment of remembrance, then prepared themselves for the coming fight.

* * *

Sam drew back his hand to throw the Ring away forever. It desperately tried to entice him, to sway his resolve, but his mind was clear. _For Frodo._ He thought.

But before he could be rid of it, teeth sank into his wrist, and fingers attempted to snatch the Ring out of his fingers. Crying out in pain, Sam wrenched his hand from Gollum's sharp teeth, leaving deep gashes upon his wrist. Cradling it, Sam quickly transferred the Ring to his uninjured hand, cupping it tightly lest it try to escape its destruction.

He jumped back from Gollum's reaching hands, the both of them balanced precariously on the edge of the precipice. "You fool!" Sam shouted above the noise of moving rock and fire. "You'll knock us both off!"

"Fat hobbit tries to destroy the precious!" wailed Gollum, one hand holding his bleeding stomach tightly. "We must have It, precious!" He circled around, until he was facing Sam and the edge, and Sam had his back to the long drop into the Fire.

_Now, now is the time! _Sam thought, and with a sudden movement tossed the Ring behind him. It was a wrench to let it go, but his steadfast resolve mixed with the panic that Gollum might defeat him let him throw it away, forever.

There was a moment of stillness, where both Gollum and same seemed frozen with disbelief. _I did it, the Quest is done! Oh, Mister Frodo, I wish you were here now more than ever._

'_I am here.' _Frodo's voice, fainter than an indrawn breath.

Gollum seemed to snap back to life. "Precioussss!!!" He sprang forward toward the precipice, heedless of the fatal drop to the Fires below, or the fact that Sam stood in his way.

Still frozen in shock at what he'd done and what he'd heard, Sam did not react quickly enough to get out of Gollum's way. Gollum knocked into his shoulder, and carried them both over the edge.

As he fell, Sam wondered what happened to hobbits when they died. He had heard Gandalf say that Men go to the Isle on Mandos, there to wait for rebirth or the end of the World, or something. _The company would not be so bad._ He thought.

* * *

Gandalf rode upon the back of Gwaihir, Lord of the Eagles, and together with Landroval they searched all of Mordor for a sign of Samwise Gamgee. At last the keen eyes of Gwaihir spotted a small box lying on a rock that was surrounded rivers of fire that would soon be swallowed up and lost.

The Eagles swooped down, braving the peril of the wild winds, and Landroval scooped up the box with his great talons.

They searched for hours more, but at least with a heavy heart Gandalf told his friends to turn back. The last Ring-bearer had been consumed by the evil he had destroyed, and was lost.

* * *

Sam eyes opened, and all around him there was blackness. He climbed unsteadily to his feet.

'_How did I get here?'_ He asked aloud, and wondered at the strangeness of his voice. His last memories were a bit jumbled, but he was fairly certain that he was supposed to be dead.

Sam looked around, but there was no light, or sound, and he could not feel the ground beneath his feet.

A hand grabbed his own, holding it tight. Sam started to pull away in fear, then realized that he knew the hand that held his, for he had grasped it so many times before.

'_Mister Frodo?'_ He asked cautiously.

'_Hullo Sam.' _Frodo's voice sounded cheerful in the blackness. _'I think it's time for our last adventure.'_

Sam was heartily sick of adventure, but he felt he had the energy for just one more. _'But how will we find our way? It's so dark.'_

Frodo sounded unsure. _'I don't know Sam, I seem to have lost the Lady's phial.'_

Remembering, Sam reached into his pocket. _'I have it Mister Frodo! I took it for safekeeping.'_

He drew out the phial, and a clear light shone forth. Now instead of blackness, all was a soft and comforting grey. Sam could see Frodo standing next to him, smiling. More than ever, Frodo seemed to shine from within with a crystal light.

'_You shine too, Sam.' _said Frodo quietly. Sam looked down at himself, and realized it was true. Under the Lights of Eärendil, the hobbits glimmered like faint stars.

Sam laughed. _'Well, fancy that!'_

In the distance, stars winked into existence, flashing in response to the star held tight in Sam's hand, or maybe in response to the crystal light shining from Frodo and Sam.

'_Do we follow the stars?'_ asked Sam.

'_Always.' _said Frodo, and hand in hand they walked towards the silvery lights.

fin

* * *

epilogue to follow 


	6. Epilogue

Disclaimer: LotR and its characters belong to people that are not me.

* * *

**Last Ring-Bearer by shrinni**

**Epilogue**

Rosie watched in dread from her habitual seat by the front window as Peregrin and Meriadoc talked urgently in low voices with her father.

_Maybe he was just delayed, _she thought, _just a day or two behind._

The conference ended, and all three Hobbits turned to leave. Meriadoc and her father exited, and Peregrin was about to follow when he seemed to notice her for the first time. He walked towards her, a burden that had been temporarily pushed away settling on his shoulders.

Rosie turned her face away from him. She closed her eyes and tried to think only of the sun warming her cheeks and shoulders. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice cracking slightly.

"He saved Middle-earth." said Peregrin, his voice extremely rusty.

Rosie felt wetness on her cheeks, cool tracks on warm skin. Somehow she smiled, in a sickly way, trying to imagine her lovable gardener saving the world. "He saved Middle-earth? I can hardly believe it."

Rosie heard him take a chair near hers. "He did," Peregrin said. She could hear him crying. "We… we weren't there. We got separated. But the Lady – lady Galadriel I mean – she saw it in her mirror."

Rosie didn't wonder how someone could see things in a mirror, it wasn't important. Cool tears ran down her sun-warmed face and dripped from her chin. "What did she see?" Rosie whispered.

"They were destroying an evil thing, a thing that was going to break the whole world. Then… Frodo was killed." Peregrin stopped and sniffed. "Sam took the thing and carried it all alone. He died destroying it."

"He would do something like that," mumbled Rosie, "my Samwise the Brave." She put her head in her hands and began to weep.

_My Sam, my gentle Sam. I waited for you. I was so sure you would come back._

Peregrin reached out and drew her to him, holding her close until her sobbing had subsided to watery sniffles.

Rosie opened her eyes and noticed absently that there was now a large damp patch on Peregrin's fine coat. She drew back from him slowly and reached for a handkerchief.

Peregrin stood. "I have to go; there are things I have to do."

Rosie nodded with a watery smile. "You have to save the world too, right Peregrin?"

He smiled. "The world had Sam and Frodo to save it, but I think Merry and I can just about manage the Shire." He paused. "I'm Pippin to my friends." he said softly.

"Then go save the Shire, Pippin."

Pippin reached into his pocket and drew out a small wooden box. He handed it to Rosie. "The Lady gave this to Sam. You should have it." He turned and walked out the front door.

Rosie looked at the box, ran her fingers over the raised 'G' carved on the lid.

_For 'Gamgee,'_ she thought, and opened the lid.

* * *

After Meriadoc slew the Man named Sharky and his cringing servant, and the ruffians had all been run off, Rosie went to see Sam's father. She found him rolling his wheelbarrow along, inspecting the places where the trees had been cut down.

"Hello there Rosie," he called when he saw her. "Just look at all this; it will take me ages to fix it all."

"I know," said Rosie, "I'd like to help." She drew Sam's box out of her pocket and offered it to Mr. Gamgee.

_Fin_

* * *

Some last notes: First to apologize for the long delay in finishing the epilogue. Finals, sickness, laziness, whatever. Apologies.

Second: thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're all my heroes.


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